


storytime

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angry Grandfathers, Family History, Gen, Inappropriate Times to Talk, Mentions of Kinslayings, Second Kinslaying | Sack of Doriath, Third Age, canon level of bad decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: Maglor and Celeborn have ignored each other until the day of the twin's birth.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë
Comments: 22
Kudos: 85





	storytime

**Author's Note:**

> Originally planned for Tolkien Gen Week. _Grey Space_ in particular, but I did not finish it in time. What remains is a piece of me headcanoning my way through the history of Middle Earth. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Maglor in particular, discussions of the kinslayings and enforced self-reflection

On rare occasions Maglor and Celeborn paths' crossed. It does not happen often that they were forced to endure each other's company. When his daughter had finally chosen Elrond at the end of the second age, Celeborn worried that there would be no one to protect his son-in-law. Celeborn himself was the guardian of Galadriel, stepping in whenever she threw herself against Sauron's forces. It had been a relief when Maglor appeared at Elrond's side, though Celeborn had not known who he was at first.

The Fëanorian had numerous names he uses, identities he switches out like clothing.

All Celeborn had seen was a capable warrior willing to protect his future son-in-law. With his age and his experience, the Sindar quickly assumed the dark-haired Noldor had to belong to the scattered survivors of the First Age.

Celeborn could have lived without knowing that the mysterious Elf at Elrond's side was the famous Maglor Fëanorian. It did not help that it had been Celebrían who confirmed his existence. It meant his daughter met a Kinslayer without his supervision. Chills run down his spine every time he sees Celebrían interacting with him. His daughter ensures he does not run into Maglor too often, forcing Celeborn to realize he does not like that scenario either.

The most time they spend in each other's company was at their children's wedding, not counting the Ring War. Celeborn refuses to do so because every time he was thankful for Maglor's ferocity in battle that kept Elrond alive through the rough years, he remembers where the Fëanorian had gotten it from.

That Maglor had once descended upon Doriath in the same manner he struck down Orcs with his sword that threatened to slice through Celeborn's friends and allies. Oropher and Amdír lost their lives at Mordor. Elrond lived because of the battle experience of his foster father.

After Gil-galad's death, they had been too busy for Celeborn to protest at Maglor's presence. The Fëanorian was seen more and more often at Elrond's side at the dawn of the Third Age, subtly serving as a reminder why it would be a bad idea to enforce a crown upon his son-in-law's head. On one hand, no one wanted a King with a Kinslayer as a parent and on the other hand, Maglor's quiet if very heavy presence in the background warned anyone off who wished to approach the subject anyway.

The weeks turned into years and Celeborn was so grateful for the newly established peace that he missed his chance to ask Maglor to leave.

Both frequently visit Imladris, though they do not speak often. They stay out of each other's way and Celeborn is not foolish enough to believe that guilt haunts Maglor's steps. Nightmares, yes, but that happens to any Elf who lived long enough to survive the previous ages.

"So, now we finally have to make peace with each other?" Celeborn asks one early morning as they wait outside the healing wards where Celebrían is giving birth.

The twins will be born today and Galadriel has forbidden them both to enter the rooms until they are called. It leaves Celeborn with nothing to do but suffer Maglor's company.

"I am afraid we have no choice in that unless you wish to cause our grandchildren unnecessary grief," Maglor says.

Celeborn is not sure, but these words might be the first directly addressed to him. They had a shared experience over too much wine after Sauron fell, reminiscing about the War of Wrath and Beleriand in general, but again ... Celeborn tries to pretend Maglor is not more than a shadow in the corner of his eyes. Nothing he is forced to acknowledge in the light of the day.

"We have our history. But you are right, I do not wish our grandsons to think they have to choose between us," Celeborn says. He would never admit it to the Noldor, but Doriath as seen its share of feuds between families. He does not wish to heap that kind of misery on his daughter or her babies.

"Children love equally regardless if the person in question deserves it." Maglor finally sits down next to him, but he keeps his gaze straight ahead, focused on the river beneath them. It is easy to guess that he is thinking of Elrond's and Elros' childhood.

Out of respect for his son-in-law, Celeborn never breached the subject. A blind man can see how fiercely the Peredhel loves the man he calls father. A few times they even talked about Elwing. He may not be admitting previous mistakes in public, but Celeborn is not preaching and praising the old glorious times either. Maybe it is enough of a concession.

"They do. I am sure we will find a way to spend time with them without running into each other too often," Celeborn says. He knows, deep in his heart, that one day he and Galadriel will return to Lothlorien.

"I do not want to plan my travels and stays in Imladris in accordance with your visits," Maglor says in a low, bitter voice. He is wringing in his hands and for the first time, Celeborn spots an emotion that is not in accord with the overwhelming confidence the Fëanorian usually carries.

"I am not sure if I want to know what you are about to confess." Celeborn knows he has come far in regards to self-reflection. At some point, his wife forced him to look at the past and consider his mistakes. As painful as it was, he fears she would have not stayed at his side otherwise.

The death of Celebrimbor is one of the things he can regret without his pride as Sindar getting in the way.

Admitting that Elrond and Elros became incredible and wonderful people not _in spite_ but _because of_ their foster parents took a lot longer, but with his daughter falling in love with Elrond Peredhel Celeborn had no choice but to grown or lose his precious child.

"We have established that we can stand here all day and hurl past mistakes at each other's foreheads. It will get us nowhere." Maglor appears to be disgruntled, judging the wisdom of his choice before gathering all his courage for a confession.

When he pulls off his leg to let his chin rest on his knee, Celeborn feels for the Elf. There are few left who can claim the age Maglor shoulders and more are deciding to sail each year. Right now, the Noldor is not the Prince of a fallen dynasty or the last member of a forgotten line. He is not even one of the best singers Celeborn had the pleasure to hear or the warrior he can always count on to keep his daughter and his son-in-law safe.

No, Maglor looks tired and angry at the world.

When the Noldor wretches his head to the side, he glares at Celeborn as if he hates his existence. Himself and Celeborn, for being here and being forced to confront past decisions.

"I do not want to have this conversation and I am aware that I risk whatever truce we established. But I cannot bury the knowledge in the wake of getting to hold my grandchildren soon and then passing them into your arms." Maglor sighs.

"Do you care to tell me what is it about?" Celeborn asks. There is a downside to living so long. They have too many mistakes and tragedies to chose from.

"Doriath."

Any excitement of the birth of his grandsons vanishes beneath a mountain of pain and regret. It sounds shallow, but Celeborn has learned to live with what happened in Sirion. The town had been a glorified refugee camp and had never been able to become a home. Mostly, because the relocation from the forest he had known all his life to the wide-open sky at the ocean had been too fresh to allow any positive feelings.

Sirion is also closely connected to the War of Wrath, they used the harbour later on when the Host of the Valar arrived.

Doriath had been a ruin he had never seen again. Celeborn regretted not returning to Menegroth to say farewell after Beleriand sunk beneath the waves.

"Do you have any particular reason to reopen old wounds?" Celeborn snarls. The memories make him worn and unhappy, exactly the opposite what he wants to feel today.

This is not how he wants to remember the twins' birth.

"Yes. There will never be a good time for it and the events today are my only chance to escape your never-ending wrath once you know the full truth." Maglor's grey eyes turn from wistful to nasty, revealing the dark and ugly beast Celeborn has met before. Recently, only on his side of the battlefield. He has witnessed how even Sauron's commanders hesitated to go after the Fëanorian, fearing his reputation and often turning to find an easier target.

Celeborn waits for the blow and Maglor does not disappoint when he says, "I was the reason my brothers and I attacked Doriath."

He wants to hit him despite the acute knowledge that Maglor is baiting him. What keeps Celeborn from taking the invitation is the fact that Maglor would be _letting_ him. Celeborn is good, he has fought plenty of battles in the past, but he will never reach the fluidity Maglor manages. He cannot saunter across the battlefield, kill a dozen Orcs in less than three minutes and come away breathing evenly.

"I am not interested," Celeborn hisses. "Whatever brought this on that you think leading me into a fistfight while my daughter gives birth, stop it."

Maglor laughs. It does not sound pretty. Rather, it is the lapse of a soul which has not known a moment of peace in a very long time. Celeborn has seen a similar rage in friends and they all sailed sooner or later. Maglor would refuse that path even if the Valar themselves came to Middle Earth to offer it to him.

"Then I am free to elaborate," Maglor croons. Celeborn knows he should walk away, but the next sentences keep him an arm-length away from the last living Fëanorian who says, "Let me tell, dear Celeborn, that we did not attack Doriath in a fit of rage. Unlike your people, we had a trained and well-established army despite the rough years we had been through. It may have taken my family a while but in the end, we took a vote."

Celeborn's heart beats against his ribcage and he is unable to react when Maglor leans closer to whisper, "And I was the one who sealed the fate of Elu Thingol's kingdom."

"Why?" Celeborn croaks. On any other day, he would react differently. With Celebrían inside the house, in pain and giving birth twice in a single day, he cannot act foolishly. Only the prospect of holding his grandsons keeps him from making this painful and ugly, especially since he would not win a fight against Maglor Fëanorian.

There is no humour in his voice when Maglor grins. "Ultimately, I merely resented the fact that your people were allowed to be happy while the rest of suffered."

It takes a minute of silence until Maglor's cruel expression vanishes. Maybe the Noldor finally realized that Celeborn will not give him the satisfaction of attacking him today.

"Personal motivations aside, I was in a somewhat difficult position. Celegorm and Curufin were all for tearing Doriath down. They never forgot that you turned them away when they fled from Himlad."

 _That_ particular piece of history is not new to Celeborn. He had one unfortunate evening with Celebrimbor who threw him out of his house after revealing that his mother died after being wounded by dragon fire. It had been gut-wrenching to learn how many people wasted away just a few hundred feet beyond their borders because they were too tired, too hungry or too injured to reach Nargothrond.

Celeborn claims he did not know how bad it was and that a lot was left forgotten due to the drama that followed Beren's arrival, but the truth is that few Sindar had actually cared to ask. None of them considered what happened beyond their girdle - and it all came crashing down on them, taking that safety for granted.

"Celebrimbor said as much. He told me how his mother died.," Celeborn admits.

The smith had never been his friend, but they had lived in Ost-in-Edhil together and Celebrimbor often shared Galadriel's company. Like many others, Celeborn wondered if he should have tried harder instead of allowing Celebrimbor to push them away.

Almost unwillingly his thoughts return to the subject, "But that's two people out of seven. I have learned much about fighting battles and leading armies since that day. Two of your brothers would not have been enough to move Maedhros Fëanorian."

The vindictive smile returns. With that expression on his face, there is little doubt how Maglor survived the ages wandering through the wild. He answers, cruel and confident, "Maedhros hated your people as much as Curufin did. The diplomatic leader you encountered during the War of Wrath was a practised lie. By that time, Maitimo had figured out how to manipulate you all into getting what he wanted."

That revelation takes Celeborn by surprise, though the last bit he is already familiar with. No one talked about it, especially after Beleriand sunk beneath the waves, but he heard quiet whispers over the centuries how long it would have taken them to defeat Morgoth had Maedhros not been willing to advise the Host of the Valar. Nor is he happy with the theory that Maedhros held onto the Silmaril and vanished with it rather than dying and turning up at Námo's doorstep.

"He had reason to be angry at the world," Celeborn says, carefully navigating around the possibility of setting a foot into a hornet's nest.

It had been one of the greatest surprises of the century, learning that Maglor did not choose to follow his older brother. Wherever he and his siblings went, in the end. Celeborn doubts their spirits chose to endure Námo's presence and he cannot imagine the Vala forcing them either.

"He blamed you for not participating in the Union he tried to bring together," Maglor says and Celeborn flinches at the mention of the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

It has been thousands of years and he still can feel the sting on his cheek from the moment his wife slapped him, hard enough to break his jaw. Yet that was nothing against feeling helpless in the wake of her pain of losing the last remnants of her family and the tears she shed until her grief settled deeply in her soul.

Galadriel left Doriath in order to lend Círdan a hand, as the last connection young Gil-galad had left.

Maedhros Fëanorian had been rumoured to be High King Fingon's best friend. Some sources even claimed they had been lovers. Today, Celeborn is able to recognize the enemy Doriath made when High King Fingon died and Maedhros Fëanorian was left with a flourishing, utterly uncaring Kingdom as a neighbour. Looking back, he wonders why they had all been so foolish to think the shadow would not touch them.

Their arrogance ensured that Doriath would fall one day. In a way, they can be grateful it wasn't Morgoth who found a weak spot in their kingdom's defence first.

"How did you get involved?" Celeborn finally asks. He wants this to be over before the servants announce the birth of his grandsons.

"We refused to put energy into sabotaging your kingdom as long as the girdle held. Too much effort with little to be gained from," Maglor recounts. His face appears almost serene now as he summarizes events that spanned decades. "Out of respect for her accomplishments, we left Luthien alone, even when she openly wore the Silmaril around her neck. But when Thingol fell and Melian's girdle with him, we knew that none of you had the right to keep it."

Celeborn wonders how many uncomfortable subjects they can touch in a single hour. When they became close neighbours with the Dwarves, he learned a lot about possession rights and the claims an originator was awarded in their culture. The Noldor, with Aulë as their once greatest ally, saw their creations in a similar light.

The Sindar are more careless with their possessions. They pass them around and use them as debts and loans, granting others the temporary right to keep them.

The theft of the Silmaril had been Luthien's and Beren's great deed and therefore they had been rewarded with non-hostility. That much Celeborn understands. The Noldor, not just the hidden Fëanorian fractions, often debated that Dior Eluchil should have not been allowed to keep the jewel afterwards.

 _A view we would have known, had we been a little more interested in the world around us,_ Celeborn thinks.

Sad how it had taken over an Age in order to follow that kind of reasoning. So it still hurts, immensely, when Maglor speaks up again, just for a different reason this time.

"Ambarussa was willing to let the matter slide. They were friends with Oropher and did not want to ruin that alliance. Caranthir did not care about you at all and counselled against a campaign on foreign territory. It left me as the last one without an opinion."

Maglor's eyes appear to gaze into the past. No doubt that the Fëanorian is walking through East Beleriand in his mind. More than once Celeborn wondered if it vexed Maglor that Gil-galad ruled over lands that used to be Fëanorian territory. Too much time passed for Celeborn to declare if Lindon's coast differs from the grasslands Maglor once defended on horseback.

Celeborn's thoughts return to his own homeland. He swallows. How close did they get at adverting a disaster? He is sitting here as one of the handfuls of survivors from the old days. At the day which he should be celebrating, because his daughter is about to have children on her own, he is left floundering. Wondering what could have been.

"What made you take up arms against us?" Celeborn asks. To this day, he has not come closer at fully understanding the Noldor albeit he married one.

His grandchildren might turn out like Maglor, too. He has not much hope that they will turn out as Princes of the Sindar.

The Noldor sighs. "Without Melian, you had no protection against Morgoth."

"That's it?" Celeborn explains. He remembers Maglor's previous resentment which he can comprehend to a certain point. This escapes his reasoning.

"With a Silmaril in your grasps and untrained as your people were, it was simply a matter of time." Maglor's shrug is downright insulting. "Even without the Oath driving us or the injustice we suffered through Doriath's inaction over the centuries, we might have taken that course. What I could not allow was the possibility of the Silmaril falling back into Morgoth hands."

Blood freezes in his veins. Celeborn gasps for breath as he struggles to comprehend what Maglor is telling him.

The Noldor continues, "Luthien managed what our House had sworn to accomplish. Personally, I could not let her sacrifice be in vain. I may have lost three brothers to the cause, but their deaths were worth driving you out of Doriath and far beyond the Andram Mountains."

The mountain is biting cold and the roaring river beneath them cannot wash away the bile Celeborn tastes on his tongue.

Maglor's voice sounds dull and bored.

"That argument convinced Ambrussa and Moryo. They helped us devise a plan that was set out to strike terror into the hearts of the Sindar. We already had been nothing but monsters in your eyes, foul and treacherous creatures. Of course, it would take little to convince you to leave Doriath once you witnessed how we debase your forests by slaughtering your citizens publicly and with a great effort to make it look as gruesome as possible."

Suddenly Celeborn remembers how one of the commanders had rounded up those whom they had previously taken prisoner. He cannot say which Sons of Fëanor had been present but he recounts the shock after the discovery that the Noldor slaughtered their kin in a sacred grove.

It had not been the end of the battle but afterwards, Dior yielded to Galathil's council to fall back.

Dior had not been born in Doriath. He could not understand the terror Celeborn's brother felt at seeing their home defiled.

In hindsight, Celeborn should have questioned earlier why the Fëanorians fought differently in Sirion then they did in Doriath. Now, he can tell that Sirion was a swirling swamp of disorder and chaos. The panic and the lack of a coordinated response killed more people than the swords of the Kinslayers.

Celeborn knows of an Elf who used to live in Ost-in-Edhil who defied his Lords and aided to get the people of Sirion to safety. When he confronted the Noldor, the tale how the Fëanorian had been confused about the missing defiance Elwing wrote them about deeply disturbed him. The desire to know the truth had Celeborn walking back to the Elf's door and long talks over tea, wine and chess proved that neither of them where spinning lies.

The Fëanorian soldier had come, expecting an army of warriors but Elwing had none. Only taunting words - or a badly worded letter Maedhros Fëanorian took as an invitation. Thus neither of them had been able to discover.

To this day, Celeborn never wondered if either of the two kinslayings had been preventable. In his mind, the Sons of Fëanor were cruel, greedy and a dark evil. Souls who had been corrupted through their upbringing, their arrogance and their desire for vengeance.

The almost mundane and far too indifferent explanation of events makes the loss of his home even worse.

"Curse you, Maglor Fëanorian, for robbing me my simple explanations," Celeborn cries. "Could you not have left me wallowing in my callous assumptions?"

"I do not deny that I participated in and enabled senseless, easily preventable slaughter." Maglor's grey eyes gleamed dangerously. "Elladan and Elrohir deserve that you discern what part you contributed to these events."


End file.
